Half-Naked Neighbors and Miracles

Obstacles conspired against me as I tried to get home for Thanksgiving.  We were even forced to evacuate my building as I was packing - the piercing emergency sirens sent one resident fleeing half-naked and barefoot.

Another resident emerged seeminly ready for the apocalypse: wearing a backpack of supplies, layers of clothes and heavy boots.

"Hey, how'd you pack all that so fast?" asked a neighbor who'd managed to save only his shaggy, white puppy.  "Um, I was getting ready for a trip." 

I confess. I'm the  panty-packing, toothbrush-toting survivalist.  But let me explain, lest my neighbors think they live next to Unabomber's disciple.

One of my first big TV news assignments was covering a freight train derailment miles from civilization.  The engineer hadn't realized that a driver had somehow crashed into the side of the train and had dragged the truck for miles.  

Rescuers had found the body of the driver, a young mom, but not her baby who'd been strapped in a car seat when she left home. There was a chance the baby was still alive, maybe ejected in the crash.

I'd been on my way home when I got the breaking news call so wasn't prepared to spend the freezing night outside in the middle of nowhere; there wasn't even a 7-11 nearby to get extra gloves and snacks.  

Still, my photographer and I walked the dark tracks with the rescuers.  Maybe our camera's light might illuminate the tiny body...

Then at dawn, a miracle of sorts.  Word came that the mom had inexplicably left the baby with a sitter just before the crash--the child had been safe all night.

That long, cold night taught me to always keep a bag packed...and that sometimes miracles happen long before we can see them.

(And the half-naked neighbor? Well, we all escaped the stove fire just fine.)

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